Winters Gifts
by TheRomericaFoundation
Summary: Lovino Vargas is part Avian. For reasons he cannot fathom he's flying across America, the Rocky Mountains to be exact, during a horrible winter storm. Suffering from the cold, frostbite, and hunger, he crash lands into Alfred F. Jones' neck of the woods, earning a broken wing. With said broken limb Lovino can't go anywhere, especially as the storm rides on. Rating may go up.
1. Chapter 1

**Hi everyone- this is a profile dedicated to Romerica (Romano/America) fanfiction. Um, I'm always trying to improve my writing and I Romerica is my OTP, so I'd figured I'd make a profile dedicated to them. I'm pretty open to ideas, and if you like the way I write, and have an idea of your own that you just can't get onto paper, feel free to send me any prompts and I'll try to fulfill them to the best of my abilities. **

**Disclaimer: I don't own Hetalia (If I did Romano and America would be canon) **

**Also this is a little fic- one-shot thing that I came up in my Critical Thinking class, so I figured I'd give it a go.**

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Freezing- it was fucking cold! Lovino knew that – but there wasn't anything he could do about it, soaring in the sky, hovering beneath the clouds. His wings were sore and he felt like they were going to fall off. It was snowing like he'd never seen before. But what else could he expect from flying across America? Now why was he in America, you ask? That was a good question – one Lovino didn't know the answer to himself. For the life of him he couldn't recall why he'd left the warmth and safety of Italy, where he knew the place like the back of his hand. Lovino vaguely wondered how much of him was suffering from frostbite, having only been dressed in a long sleeve t-shirt and a pair of jeans.

He felt himself falter, dropping ten or so feet before he caught himself. The snow was slapping against his skin like ice pellets and he ignored the fact that he'd stopped feeling his fingers a long time ago, not fully aware that he couldn't feel anything else, and that his wings were the next to go. As he dropped another ten feet he realized that he would die here, flying through the snowy mountains of Colorado. There was nothing but forest and snow as far as his eyes could see- and he could see pretty far. It was a perk that came with being part bird.

His mind blanked and then he was suddenly falling towards the Earth, his wings limp as he plummeted down. Lovino crashed into the ground and he heard a sickening crack as something broke; yet he was too cold to feel anything. Thank God for that. He laid in the snow, unmoving, his vision blurring as quick flurries of snow flew across his vision. His eyes rolled into the back of his head and he slipped from consciousness, his body slowly being covered by a blanket of snow.

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Meanwhile, Alfred F. Jones settled in front of his fireplace, feet propped up on an ottoman, a cup of hot cocoa cradled in his hands. He was basking in the warm of the fire, a small blanket strewn around his shoulders as he watched the fire crackle and send small ashes sailing towards the rocky format of the fireplace. He frowned as he heard something crash nearby, his head whipping around to look even though he was inside. Old habits die hard. The only thing it could be was an animal – his cabin was too isolated for people to come around. He felt compelled to check anyway, even though it was most likely nothing. Who knew? Maybe some little animal had gotten hurt – it was the perfect time to be the hero!

Alfred set his cocoa aside, his sock clad feet shuffling against his throw rug as he found his boots, pulling them on along with a warm jacket, a beanie, and some gloves, grabbing a flashlight as he made his way out the door. He flipped on the front porch light, shivering as he left the warmth of his lovely cabin. His eyes scanned the darkness, his smoky breath leaving a faint trail behind him as he stepped off the porch to find the cause of the crash. "Damn it's cold out here," he muttered, shielding his eyes with one hand, shining the flashlight with the other. He walked around the cabin, squinting to get a good look in the forest.

He scanned over an area, nothing but some red stuff, and moved on. "Wait- what!?" Alfred moved his flashlight back, catching sight of the reddened area. Next to it was an.. an unusual lump, with… wings protruding out of it? He rushed over and dropped to his knees, hands moving to brush away the blanket of snow. He froze as he realized that this was a person – a hurt one, if the blood was any indication of it. With no hesitation, and concern swelling in his chest, Alfred scooped up the limp stranger into his arms, rushing back into his cabin.

Kicking the door shut, Alfred hurried into the living room, laying the strange man on the throw rug. He began to strip from his out-door wear, throwing everything towards the general direction of the door before stripping the other man and lying next to him, pulling him against his chest. Alfred had to be careful in this situation; he knew that if his body heated up to quickly then he would die from the rapid change in temperature. So body heat was the next best thing. He wasn't sure that his visitor wasn't going to die of hypothermia, but he'd do his best to prevent it.

Reaching over and behind him, Alfred pulled the blanket he'd been using earlier from the couch, tossing it over the now shivering man. That had to be a good idea. He reluctantly removed himself from the floor, making his way into the bathroom to grab a towel and then coming back out, sitting Indian style in front of the man, softly towel drying his hair. Instinctively his eyes ran over his body for injury, spotting it almost instantly. A broken wing – but it looked like a clean break. Still, he winced and made note to get pain killers later, though they'd hardly suffice.

A groan brought him back to the attention of the stranger, who was shifting against the carpet as he pried his eyes open. Lovino, to say the least, was surprised to be alive. Or maybe he wasn't, considering that he was warm and comfortable, but his body was sore so he ruled death out almost immediately. He shifted to rest his chin against the ground, eyes gazing up and locking with beautiful blue eyes, framed by glasses.

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**Well, it's short but I'd like to see what people think of it so far. If I get enough good reviews then I'll post the second part, which I already have written out… **

**So I hope you guys enjoyed it, and feel free to review or message me or something, I'm always happy to make friends. Read ((done that, you're here right?)) and please review, it's much appreciated. **


	2. Chapter 2

**Alright, it seems a lot of people enjoyed the last chapter, I got about 60 views on it and four reviews on it, so here's the second chapter! I hope it's as…interesting? As the first one, and I hope to keep you all reading and entertained! **

**I'd like to give thanks to reviewers:**

**pandahero2p  
Coffee-Flavored Fate (yay)  
Miss sweet death  
Silan haye**

**Reviews always make me happy, but enough talking, here's the next chapter**

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Lovino panicked almost immediately, pushing himself up from the ground and away in his fear and realization of the situation. He froze though, as pain shot down his back, his eyes almost instantly brimmed with tears as he leaned against the wall for support. He chocked as he tried to swallow, his breath caught in his chest.

"Whoa, whoa, calm down," the blond man said to him, voice quiet and calming, hands raised to show that he meant no harm. "You're hurt," he continued, his eyes glancing at the appendages attached to his back. Lovino slumped and slid to the ground, hand moving to cradle his shoulder, carefully watching the other man. He narrowed his eyes, flickering his gaze back and forth around the room and back to the man.

Several moments of awkward silence passed before the blond spoke up. "My name is Alfred, what about you?" Lovino frowned, shifting because the way he was sitting had his wings awkwardly sprawled across the floor and it was hurting his wounded wing. More moments of silence passed before he spoke up, his voice hoarse from the cold, "I'm Lovino." Alfred's face softened and he smiled gently. "That's a nice name, sounds Italian. You should let me help you – your ah… wing is broken and if we don't set the bone then it won't heal properly." Lovino snorted softly, sucking in a breath, "That's because it is."

He considered him with a critical gaze, slowly pushing himself to stand once again. Alfred stood as well, gently approaching the smaller man – moving behind him. Lovino glanced at him over his shoulder, not completely trusting the random stranger who's home he appeared to be in. "This is going to hurt," he warned as he adjust himself, hands in place and posed to set Lovino's broken bone. Lovino braced himself, howling in pain as Alfred set the bone. His knees almost gave out and his vision betrayed him, blurring and blackening around his peripheral, his heart pounded in his chest and his breathing became short and sallow, ragged. An arm slipped around his waist, keeping him steady on his feet.

"It's just the shock, it will pass." Alfred ran his free hand over Lovino's back, soothing as it moved up from the arch to the area between his wings. Lovino instinctively curled a wing around them, leaning heavily against Alfred without protest. He just needed to keep his balance, that was all. Not to mention the pain from his broken limb was taxing on him greatly. He balled his hands into fists and dug his nails into his palms, attempting to distract himself from the pain in his back with another source of pain. Alfred's hand was comforting against his back but it didn't stop the pain, and he imagined that it wouldn't stop for quite some time.

Alfred let Lovino lean against him, enthralled and mystified by the situation, even though he didn't show it. He knew that in times, when people were panicked or hurt and you were trying to help, if _you_ looked panicked and scared then it just worsened the situation. He tried not to stare or think about the ma- Lovino's wings, but he'd never seen anything like it before. Sure he'd seen birds, vulture's, eagle's, things like that, but never a _person_ with wings.

He was suddenly glad that he was on vacation, knowing that it would take quite some time for Lovino to heal, and that the storm wouldn't be letting either of them go any time soon – wings or not. Alfred made note to call his brother some time, thanking him for forcing him onto this vacation. "You always work, Alfred! Take some time off and just relax, enjoy yourself. Get away from people," he had said. He was a workaholic, in love with his work, but that wasn't wrong right? It was better that way. He cast a glance out the window, the snow falling heavily and thickly, the storm giving no signs that it was going to give up.

That was one thing he loved about the Rocky Mountains. The snow was heavy and it was great for snowboarding and skiing, but what he loved most was when he was here in his cabin, soaking up the warmth from the fire, watching the snow as it fell and piled up in layers, and the trees as they were cascaded in a beautiful blanket of white, but never dying. That was also the problem though. Well for now it was. It tended to snow in the mountains a lot, which meant it was hard to leave or go anywhere, especially during a storm.

Alfred sighed and would have ran a hand over his face, were it not for the Italian bird man in his arms. He shifted his weight to his other foot, leaning his head down, close to Lovino's ear. "Can you walk?" Lovino swallowed thickly at Alfred's voice, slightly pushing away to stand straighter. "Yeah," he mumbled, and Alfred led him around the couch and down the hallway, towards his room. He managed to get Lovino into his room and onto the bed without hurting his wings any more than possible. There, said Italian sprawled himself across his bed on his belly.

Lovino's hurt wing took up most of the bed and his other dangled off the edge, the tips of his feathers reaching almost to the other end of the wall, even half folded. If Alfred had to guess, he'd say the beautifully browned, tanned, and shaded wings could easily reach fifteen feet across; if opened all the way. Lovino's wings had warm, earthy tones, some even tinted red, which brought out the colors in his gorgeous green-hazel eyes. A blush spread across his face as he realized what he was thinking and he stepped out of the room.

_This is no time to be hitting on Lovino,_ who was hurt and sprawled out on his bed. Alfred swallowed thickly, thinking about how his friend Kiku had always said that someone was… undoubtedly sexier and cuter when they were wounded. He pushed the thought aside though, because Kiku was kind of _weird_ sometimes.

Making a quick trip into the bathroom and the kitchen to fetch some water and pain pills, Alfred returned to his room and left the water and pills nearby, where they could be reached without Lovino having to get off the bed or move around too much. Although he would have to sit up to drink the water.

Instead Alfred thought about what he could make for dinner, almost instantly ruling out anything American. If Lovino was anything like his mom, then pure Italian would be the way to go. Alfred's dad was American, and his family had lot of different ethnicities and cultures, but his mom was pure Italian. Her family had always been true to that, always married other Italians, but she broke that custom.

Alfred walked into his kitchen, pulling on an apron, washing his hands, and gathering ingredients. It's a good thing he could make a _mean_ Italian pizza.

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**Okay, this chapter is kind of short too and I apologize that, but when it comes to writing out like ten pages I really suck at that. And the way is formatted is weird because it makes it look like I wrote even LESS. But whatever, hopefully the chapters will get longer because, I don't know if I mentioned it before, I'm getting this all from a book from one of my classes.**

**It's basically where we have this empty journal so we can write down thoughts and other things that get in the way of our ideas, and then we have a place where we can sketch out or write ideas down- and I've been writing small chapters for a fic, which would be this. I'm limited to 100 pages and I have to have at least 50 entries, but I might end up just getting another journal.**

**Enough about me though, read, review, and I hope you enjoyed.**


	3. Chapter 3

**Okay, this made me pretty damn hungry when I was writing this, I did a little bit of research because I don't know how to make **_**real**_** Italian pizza, I'm not Italian, unfortunately. So I really hope that most of this is correct and I know some parts are supposed to take longer but it's a fic, so it hurried up a little bit. I tried to make it more realistic and you'll see how, and hopefully this chapter is longer. I tried to make this longer and I hope you guys enjoy.**

**Thanks to reviewers:  
Coffee-Flavored Fate  
Lady Yume Chan  
pandahero2P  
Miss sweet death**

**Read and review please! **

**Disclaimer: Don't own Hetalia.**

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Alfred really enjoys his cabin. It's a decent size, two bedrooms, one bathroom, large living room and, his favorite part, a splendid kitchen. The kitchen's newly furnished with white oak against black oak. He's got brand new double ovens, stacked on top of another, practically unused knives and dishes and even new windows and a center island that he loves using. What can he say? He doesn't get away from work often, so he hardly uses any of it.

So he gathers his ingredients, first dry yeast, warm water, plain flour, salt, and a bowl. He lets the yeast dissolve in the warm water while he gets a wash cloth, wiping down the island before he combines the flour and salt into a bowl, dropping it onto the island. A hole is created in the center and he pours the yeast and water into it, combining all of it together as he sifts and massages his hands, fingers, and knuckles into the mixture. Alfred's working the dough and then he lets it set, deciding to make the sauce while he waits.

Now he's got about ten Roma tomatoes, more water, olive oil, white sugar, white vinegar, and garlic salt sitting on the counter with a bowl, blender, and a pan resting on the side. The tomatoes, water, and live oil are dumped into a blender until its smooth. The sugar, garlic salt, and the vinegar are moved into a pan with the tomato mixture and Alfred brings it to a boil before letting it sit so it can thicken.

He cleans out the blender before he fills it half way with the now thickened pan contents and he pulses the blender several times before leaving it to blend, letting it puree. He dips his finger into the sauce, running his tongue over to taste a sample and he decides that he's done with the sauce, satisfied, and decides to move onto toppings. Now, Alfred's not too sure about Lovino, but he _loves_ toppings. So he gets some shredded cheese, fresh bell peppers, a stick of pepperoni, some fresh mushrooms, olives, and tomatoes. The bell peppers are cut in half, then into small slices, being tossed into a bowl, the pepperonis suffer the same fate, cut thin and straight, but pushed aside to be placed on with the cheese. The mushrooms he dumps into a small pan, filling it with butter and sautéing them before leaving them to soak up the remainders of the butter. The tomatoes are sliced up and the olives are cut in half.

Once Alfred is content with everything so far, he checks the dough, which has double in size. He grabs the washcloth and wipes down the island and his hands once again, grabbing a knife and the dough, cutting it into four sections. Three of the sections are wrapped in cling wrapped and left in the fridge and the rest of the dough is dropped onto the island where Alfred's experienced fingers press into the dough, stretching it outward. The outer edges are thicker; but he wants them that way. He heats the pizza crust before topping it off with the tomato sauce, cheese, and the rest of the toppings. While he lets it cook he decides to drop in on his guest, see how he's doing. So he washes his hands, takes off the apron, and walks into his room.

Lovino's still lying on his bed, but the waters gone and so are the pills, plus he's taken it upon himself to cover with a blanket. Alfred brought bandages because he knows what he needs to do, and he knows that Lovino's going to be anything but happy about it.

"Alright, up 'n at 'em, Lovino," he calls out, and the latter groans in response. A chuckle escapes Alfred's lips and he steps toward the other male, "C'mon, we need to wrap your wing up." Lovino groans again, a small whine accompanying it. That meant he had to move, which lead to hurting, and he just didn't want to deal with that. With a lot of reluctance, and the help of Alfred, Lovino is sitting on the edge of the bed, rubbing his eyes and yawning.

"Okay, I know you don't want to, but you need to fold your wing in."

Lovino's eyes sharpen as Alfred explains and he wants to hit the damn bastard, but he won't, just because he's helping him. Struggling and trying to ignore the pain, Lovino manages to fold his wing against his back as he stands up. Alfred tells him to, "Raise your hands above your head," so he does as he's told to. So he stands there, feeling dumb as Alfred maneuvers around him, bandaging his hurt wing against him. It feels loads better, now that he doesn't have to struggle to keep the appendage up any longer.

"H-Hey bastard, when am I getting my clothes back?"

Alfred looks enlightened, ignoring his insult, and grins. "They're still wet, so you can borrow some of mine."

Lovino rolls his eyes and tucks his other wing in, just cause it feels weird having it extended as the other one is held against his body to heal. "How do you wear your clothes?" Alfred asks him, sending him a curious look as he goes through his closet. He pulls out the smallest pair of sweats he can find for Lovino, tossing them onto the bed. "What do you mean?" He replies, not understanding the question.

Alfred chuckles and shakes his head, "Sorry, I mean, how do you ah…" he frowns as he gestures to Lovino's wings, looking sheepish, like he doesn't know how to form the question he wants to ask.

"Slits in the back," Lovino explains, walking over to Alfred and taking the flannel shirt that the American is holding in his hands. He takes off the hangar and folds the front of it over his arm, running his fingers over the back in two vertical slits. "Big enough so my wings can fit through, but they usually keep my wings concealed if I have them folded against my back like this, so it's not that big of a deal. And it's not very noticeable either."

Alfred watches Lovino's fingers as they move across the fabric of his shirt, and he nods in understanding, eyes glancing around his room as he tries to remember what he did with the scissors. He moves past Lovino, muttering a sorry as he almost bumps into him and goes to his night stand, pulling out a pair of scissors.

Lovino quirks an eyebrow at him, shifting his weight as he regards Alfred. "What are you doing bastard?" he questions as Alfred walks back over to him, taking the shirt from his hands. "Cutting the shirt, so you can fit your wings through them silly. What else does it look like I'm doing? Does it matter where the cuts are?" Lovino frowns, and because he's already so used to cutting slits into his shirts, he takes the flannel shirt from the other man and the scissors, making the incisions before handing the cutting devices back to him.

"You sure it's okay to cut up one of your shirts?" he asks, even though he's already pulling it on. Alfred watches him with a faint smile, laughing. "Well it's a bit too late to be asking that anyway, isn't it? It's fine, I liked that shirt but I outgrew it, so I don't wear it anymore anyway." Lovino scoffs at him as he buttons up the shirt, taking note that the shirt is about two sizes too big for him. The bottom of the shirt reaches down to his mid thighs, and he really hopes that the sweats have a tie string on them because otherwise there's going to be a problem. He pulls on the sweats, frowning deeper as they slide down to sag on his hips.

"They're a bit big," Alfred comments, one of his arms folded across his chest, the other supporting his chin in his hands. Lovino flips him off and pulls up the shirt to pull at the tie string, hiking the sweats up so they set on his waist where he wants them to be. The outfit is horrible, but Lovino figures he doesn't really have anything else to work with. "What about socks? My feet are cold dammit. It's cold dammit, you bastard."

Alfred just laughs and opens a drawer, going through his socks before pulling out a pair. "These might fit you, I think they're Mattie's, mine would probably be too big for you. His will probably be too big too. You kind of have small feet." Lovino's face turns dark red and he growls, grabbing a pillow off of the bed and smacking Alfred upside the head with it. The American laughs more and holds up his hands, fixing his glasses, "Okay, okay, sorry."

So Lovino sits on the bed, leaning down and pulling the socks over his bare feet. It'll take a little while for him to warm up completely, but for now the clothes are sufficient enough. He stares down at his feet and wiggles his toes in the socks before he looks up at the American watching him. "W-what?" he mumbles, face slightly flushed in embarrassment from being watched so closely. Alfred just smiles at him and shakes his head, "This whole situation is just, fascinating, that's all."

Lovino gives him a look, thinking upon the fact that Alfred _has_ been strangely calm about this whole situation. "I'm actually surprised that you haven't been freaking out or anything," he states, leaning back on Alfred's bed, his wing spread across it and draping down with the tips of his feathers brushing against the floor. He kicked his legs back and forth and Alfred watched in slight awe as Lovino moved his wings so fluidly. "I actually am, on the inside though. It's more cool than freaky if anything." Alfred grins at him and Lovino shoots him a dark look. He's not a freak.

"I mean, come on, you have _wings_! And damn gorgeous ones at that!" Alfred continues, oblivious to the way Lovino's face turns a dark shade of red, and that's when he suddenly notices it. The curl that protrudes from his hair from the right side. Lovino catches him staring and lowers his gaze, swallowing thickly, "What the fuck are you staring at?"

"You," Alfred admits honestly, which earns a darker blush from Lovino. "Don't say shit like that," he snaps and Alfred laughs heartily, rubbing the back of his head. "Sorry, I- oh shit, the pizza!" he suddenly exclaims, turning on his heal and rushing out of the room. Lovino lifts an eyebrow and, out of curiosity, follows Alfred. He looks both ways down the hall – still new to the environment that is Alfred's house, and finds his way to the kitchen where the smells of a delicious pizza are wafting through the air.

The smells make him moan and his shoulders haunch, the food smells delicious and his stomach growls to back up exactly how he feels. A mitten-clad Alfred laughs and pulls the pizza from the oven, placing it on top of the stove to let it cool. The crust looks nice and soft, but crunchy at the same time, the cheese is melted just right and the other toppings are glistening with cooked perfection. Alfred looks smug, Lovino notes, as he grabs a pizza cutter from his drawer and slices the pizza up.

"Did you make that yourself?" he inquires and Alfred turns on the sink to rinse off the pizza cutter, nodding in answer. "Yeah, mom taught me how to cook a lot of Italian dishes – she's Italian – and I really love to cook. I used to be in the military, the Navy – haha a lot of people called us jar heads – but now I do a bunch of side jobs, sometimes I cook at Italian restaurants, stuff like that." Lovino wasn't sure what Alfred being in the military had to do with anything, but he went along with it none the less.

"Jar heads huh? Well your head is empty enough for it," he snorted and Alfred smirked at him, laughing lightly. Now that he thought about it, Alfred didn't seem to take anything he said to heart. He's already insulted him from high heavens to hell but all that he's done is laugh about it and brush it off. It was kind of nice. Alfred let the pizza set out for a while before he grabbed some paper plates and offered a slice to Lovino, who took the plate almost greedily. They both dug in and the kitchen was filled with silence as Lovino quenched his hunger. Alfred just enjoyed watching Lovino, still enthralled by the situation.

"How long?" he asks suddenly as he finishes off his fourth slice, and Lovino quirks an eyebrow, not understanding the question.

"What?"

"How long are your wings? When they're fully extended." Lovino looks contemplative as he chews, taking his time with his food rather than scarfing it down. That's something Alfred picked up from his father. "About sixteen feet across I think, we don't really sit around and measure them."

"We?" Alfred emphasized, "So there's more than just you?"

"Of course there are dumbass, I'm not just going to suddenly exist one day! That would be just plain stupid," he huffed and folded his arms across his chest, leaning back in the chair. Alfred took his plate, and Lovino's empty one, and tossed them in the trash bin, "Yeah I know that! But, I mean, well-" he sighed as he tried to word what he wanted to say.

Lovino interrupted him, "Yes, there are more like me. We just really know how to hide well because…we're isolationists. No one has known about us for a long time, so I'd really appreciate it if you'd keep your damn mouth shut and not tell anyone about our little encounter."

"What!?" Alfred said suddenly as he stood up, hands thrown in the air, "You honestly think I'm gonna keep this a secret!? I was going to brag to my brother!"

"Typical American," Lovino snorted as he rolled his eyes and shook his head, "that's all you care about, isn't it? Not the fact that my people aren't ready for the whole world to fucking suddenly know that we exist! We're hidden for a damn reason, the same reason that you fuckers killed off all of your natives for."

Alfred frowned at Lovino, feeling insulted. "We didn't kill _all_ of them."

"You might as well have," the Italian reiterated. "What the fuck did they ever do to you? _Nothing_! You bastards just showed up one day and decided, '_Hey I like this place so I'm just going to kick everyone out and call it mine._' And that was that, now there's America."

Turning his head away with a frown, Alfred worried his lip as he stared out the window. He completely disagreed with Lovino, America was just trying to do things the right way, right? They were the heroes after all! He pushed aside the conversation, hoping that Lovino would go with it, "So why were you out here anyway?"

Lovino pursed his lips in irritation at the sudden conversation shift. And then he remembered _why_ he had left in the first place. "My people are very…purposeful and tactical. If you don't have any use to them, any set of skills or anything, then you might as well be dead to them. My nonno has always been very pushy with stuff like that, but only to me, so I just got fed up with it and left. Not like it would matter, no one would notice that I'm gone," Lovino explained, and by the end he found himself choked up on his words, eyes watering.

"That's totally not true dude!"

"Keep your dude to yourself," Lovino snapped, glaring at him.

Alfred ignored the comment and continued on, "You just have to find what you're good at! Sometimes it takes a while because it takes longer to find it. Kind of like baking a cake, you have to have the right ingredients and everything and then at some point it all comes together and it's really great! Plus you get to make it better with frosting and sprinkles and stuff like that, but that's not the point."

"Leave it to you to think with your stomach." Lovino finds himself smirking anyway. Cake huh?

"Hey, I'll decorate your cake if you know what I mean," Alfred grins at him and Lovino's up in an instant, his face blemished with blushing and his hands balled into fists as he punches Alfred in the stomach, who heaves out a breath and laughs anyway.

"Chigi!"

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**Well there's yet **_**another**_** chapter. I got like, 193 views already and you have no idea how happy that makes me! I really hope this chapter was enjoyable to you, so please review because those always keep me motivated and happy.**


	4. Chapter 4

_**Three hundred and fifty seven views!**_** That makes me insanely happy, I'm just absolutely riddled with excitement and the feeling of **_**accomplishment**_** when I know that there are people who enjoy something that I've done. Didn't really write a new fic in my stupid journal for class, which is why this is late, so I apologize for that, and I had some writers block.. I also noticed that I tend to…really like to use the comma. That's weird, to me it is. Anyway, enough of my rambling. On with the story!**

**Thanks to reviewers:  
Spamano4ever (my ass if you're reading a Romerica fic haha!)  
watergoddeskasey  
I'm glad the both of you find my fic cute  
PrussianMatrix456  
Miss sweet death  
pandahero2P**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Hetalia**

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They'd fallen asleep, and it's way late into the night when Alfred wakes up, a shiver coursing through his body. He pries his eyes open reluctantly, head turned to the side, glasses pressed painfully into the side of his nose. He lifts his head and looks down, blinking in confusion at the warmth and weight of something – no, _someone_ lying on top of him. He smiles as he realizes it's Lovino. The Italian is lying on top of Alfred with his arms splayed out on either side of Alfred. His wing is folded up mostly, and he's almost between Alfred's legs.

Alfred shifts and reaches over, trying not to wake up Lovino, and pulls up a blanket over them both. He glances over at the clock and winces as the bright green numbers of 3:30 shine in the dark room, but he just slides his glasses off, places them on his nightstand, closes his eyes, and drifts back into sleep, perfectly content with Lovino lying across him.

When he wakes up, they're lying in the same position. Except now he has his arms wrapped around Lovino's waist, keeping him in place. Said Italian is still heavily asleep, and he looks like he needs it, Alfred decides. He grins at the curl that bobs slightly as Lovino shifts, nuzzling against Alfred, his arms moving around him to cuddle him. Alfred wonders if Lovino knows that he's clingy in his sleep, but he decides against mentioning it in fear that he'd get hit again.

Despite Lovino's small size, he can sure pack a punch. He almost winces as he recalls the last time he dealt with Lovino's fury, and he decided that he would rather steer away from that. Maybe a little teasing here and there, but not enough to get him wounded by the irate man.

Lovino groans softly as he wakes from his slumber, eyes groggily being forced open as he shifts around, trying to get his bearings. He looks around the room first before his eyes finally land on Alfred, who just smiles softly at him and says, "Good mornin' Lovino."

Lovino groans and closes his eyes, burying his face in Alfred's chest to try and hide his face from the light. It's still slightly dark, Alfred notices, even though it's nine in the morning. The sky is still heavily littered with clouds and it's still snowing heavily. Alfred's tempted to get up and see how high the snow has piled, but he's comfortable with Lovino lying on top of him the way he is. It's a bit chilly in the room, but the way they're snuggling now is warm and Lovino's not trying to hurt him, so he figures it's okay. He'll let Lovino sleep for a while longer and then he can make them coffee or something, but he'll deal with that later.

Alfred ends up dozing off again, and the pair of them sleep for another three hours. Alfred wakes up, panicking almost immediately as the unfamiliar weight and warmth of Lovino is no longer pressed against his body. He shoots up and darts out of the room, grabbing Texas on the way, hand pushing his hair back as he swiftly maneuvers around his cabin.

"Lovino!" he calls out, almost frantic. He pauses in the hallway as one of the hall doors open and Lovino steps out, looking at Alfred as if he's confused.

"What bastard?"

Alfred sighs in relief, ignoring the insult. He wasn't sure why, but he'd felt like Lovino had left. Of course there was no way he could, not the state he was in, and especially not with how the weather was. But hearing his voice was still like a heavy weight had been lifted off his shoulders.

"Ah- nothing, I couldn't ah, find you. That's all."

Lovino rolls his eyes at him, scuffing his foot against the floor to fix the sweats as the too long leggings pooled around his feet. "What, I can't take a piss?"

Alfred laughs nonchalantly and shakes his head, suddenly feeling a little silly. Of course Lovino wouldn't have left. Where else would he have gone? There weren't many rooms in his cabin anyway since it was just him.

"I didn't say that, anyway, you want some coffee?"

Lovino shrugs and follows Alfred into the kitchen, sitting himself in a chair and watching as Alfred got to work with the coffee. He shivers and wraps his arms around himself, his wing folding around him almost. Stupid table, blocking him from warming himself. Stupid Alfred, needing the damn table so close. Stupid Alfred.

Unbeknownst to Alfred, he walks over and slides a cup of coffee across the table for Lovino, moving back and taking several pans and ingredients out as he prepares to make… breakfast? Lunch? Brunch? Lovino's not sure what time it is, but Alfred's making him food so he doesn't really give a damn.

He cradles the warm cup in his hands and swishes it around, watching as the liquid whirlpools before stopping. He lifts it to his lips and takes a sip, but withdrawals almost immediately, a look of disgust coming across his face.

Alfred looks back at him and quirks an eyebrow, grinning. "Something wrong with the coffee?"

"Yeah, and something's wrong with you if you can drink shit like this. Don't American's have _any_ tastebuds?" Lovino pushes the cup to the side and decides he'll fix himself some coffee in a little while – better coffee. It might be American, but he'd make it work.

"It's not that bad – if you don't want it, I'll drink it."

Lovino nods at his cup and makes a face, pushing it towards Alfred, who grabs the mug and downs the coffee in one go. Lovino scrunches his face in disgust and looks away; hoping that Alfred's cooking isn't as bad as his coffee is. Last night's meal was nothing American like, so he's hoping it still tastes the same.

It's after breakfast and Lovino's taken it upon himself to move Alfred's love seat, pushing it against the wall so he can stare out the window. His arms are propped up and holding his head, a small blanket wrapped around him, feet curled up underneath him to keep warm. He looks like he's out of it, Alfred notes as he walks into the living from his storage room, where he has most of his firewood kept. The fire's getting low and it's keeping the house warm, so he adds several half blocks of chopped wood into it.

Lovino doesn't even spare him a glance, instead watching the quick flurries of snow as they pile snow higher and higher on the ground. He lets out a sigh and folds his arms, his head dropping to pillow against them. Alfred smiles and dusts his hands off, poking around the fire with his fire iron, tending to it.

Behind him Lovino coughs, a hand moving up to cover his mouth and he frowns. Alfred looks back at him and he coughs again, shoulders shaking with the movement. The American moves forward after putting down his fire iron, pushing his hand underneath Lovino's bangs to feel his forehead. It's hot, and he doesn't think it's because of the fire.

"You're burning up Lovino," he says and places the back of his fingers against Lovino's cheeks, then under his chin. Lovino lazily swats his hand away and sends him a small glare, "It's cold," he mumbles in denial of Alfred's statement. "I'm cold," he continues, pulling the blanket around him tighter and closer. He wiggles his toes in the socks Alfred let him borrow and pulls the blanket up around his neck more, snuggling into it.

Alfred smiles at him anyway and walks into the hallway, then the bathroom, searching for some sort of cough medicine. He frowns as he pushes aside old shaving razors, an empty can of shaving cream, after shave, some ibuprofen, advil, nothing useful for Lovino. He sighs and closes the bathroom cabinet and walks back into the living room where Lovino has pushed the chair away from the window and instead closer to the fire.

His feet are hanging off the love seat and he's got his ankles crossed as they warm up closer by the fire. "It doesn't look like I have any cough medicine Lovi," he says with a frown as he situates himself on the couch near the sickly Italian.

Lovino clears his throat and his curl bobs up and down, "I wouldn't take it anyway. We don't – we don't use medicine."

Alfred nods in understanding but he questions how often any of them get sick. Maybe he's right though, and maybe he doesn't need it. But Alfred isn't exactly sure how long Lovino was lying outside in the snow, or how long he'd been flying in it with the way he was dressed. His clothes were probably soaked from all of the snow, and the wind from flying didn't make anything better, only froze it to him.

He frowned deeply as he recalled how freezing Lovino was when he found him. It might have been hesitating, but now it seemed his body was catching up with the change of situation. He was getting sick now and that wasn't good with his broken wing.

Lovino groaned and Alfred was brought back to attention. The Italian shifted on the couch, part of his blanket sliding down as he reached back and rubbed at his shoulder, "Does it hurt much?" he asks, sitting forward, elbows resting on his knees.

"It aches," Lovino starts, rubbing his thumbs deeply into the muscles, "We can only hold our wings against our bodies for about four or so hours. After that it just gets too difficult and straining so we have to open them to move the muscles around. Bandage or not it still hurts and I can't really do anything about it."

Alfred nods in understanding, hands rubbing together as he thinks, "Well, it should be about two weeks until your wing is healed from the break. I'm not sure about leaving it un-bandaged until then but I guess we could take it off every once in a while. You're not going to be moving it around though, at the very most we'll just have you lying on the bed and have it spread across, like you do with your other wing."

Lovino looks away, his cheeks heating up as he frowns and glares to himself. It seems Alfred has been paying too much attention to him, more than he's used to, and more than he'd like.

"How about a bath? Am I allowed to bathe? I feel gross and grimy and it's cold."

Alfred contemplates the thought of a bath. On the plus side it's nice and warm and Lovino could relax, the heat would be good for his cough and his tub was pretty large. He built it himself, of course it would be. He nodded as he thought, standing up and stretching before heading toward the hallway.

"Alright, you can take a bath. We can probably unwrap your wing for a while, while you relax and stuff. You don't mind if your wings get wet do you?" Alfred's opening his hall closet, pulling out a washrag and two towels, another set of bandages too.

"Nh no, it's fine. I can get my wings wet but I usually don't like to, none of us do. Our wings are heavier in the water, when they're soaked, and it makes it harder to fly."

"But you're not going to be flying," Alfred replies, flipping on the light in the bathroom, towels being placed on the counter as he pushes aside the shower curtain, searching for the plug.

"I'm not," Lovino calls from the living room, sitting forward, "but I mean usually. If we're trying to fly away from something dangerous and we get stuck in a lake or something then it's harder for us to make an escape."

Alfred hums in response even though Lovino can't hear him and turns on the water, calling out for Lovino. Lovino steps into the bathroom mere moments later, a curious look on his face.

"What?"

"I want you to test this, is it too hot for you?" Lovino rolls his eyes and leans down, shivering as he missed the warmth from the blanket and the fire. He places his hand underneath the tap water and turns down the cold water a tad more before nodding his head.

"It's fine now; it's been a while since I've had a nice, hot bath."

Alfred sends him a look and Lovino slaps him upside the head, which only causes the American to laugh to himself. "I bathe dumbass, we just don't get hot water, so we don't' use it."

"What do you bathe in then?"

"Water."

"C'mon Lovi, you can tell me, it's okay. I won't laugh if you bathe in like, a river or something."

"Lovi? What the fuck is a Lovi?" Lovino asks and shoots Alfred a look.

"Lovi is your name! Lovi, Lovino. See? I shortened it up a bit, and it fits you. It's actually kind of cute." Alfred grins at him and Lovino turns red, his blush creeping down his neck and spreading to his ears.

"Chigi! I hate you so much! Get out! Get out!"

He's standing up now, pulling Alfred up by the wrist, pushing him in front of him then towards the bathroom door. Alfred just throws his head back and lets out a loud and deep laugh, his hands moving to brace him on either side of the door frame.

Lovino growls behind him and tries harder to push him out and only gives up as he sees that Alfred isn't going anywhere anytime soon. So he drops his arms and his forehead presses against the nape of Alfred's neck, a small, almost pitiful whine escaping his lips. Alfred laughs softer this time but doesn't move, almost afraid that Lovino will fall if he does so.

"I'm just teasin' Lovino, c'mon, get up so I can leave."

Lovino doesn't move, comfortable as he leans against Alfred, though it's sort of an odd position. Alfred moves his arms and turns around quickly, keeping Lovino standing and steady. Lovino groans again and pushes his arms away with a small, tired glare. He coughs again and turns his head away, covering his mouth again.

"Alright, let's get you into the bath."

"I'm not stripping while you're in here, bastard."

Alfred only smirks at him and turns his head to the side, "Not like there's something I haven't seen before."

This has Lovino turning red again and he balls his fist up, punching Alfred straight in the gut. Alfred wheezes out another laugh and holds up a hand in defeat, backing away. "I'm joking, joking! The most I've seen is when we put your bandages on; don't get your panties in a bunch."

"I'll fucking drown you in this water," Lovino says as he kneels next to the tub, roughly covering the drain with a cork so the water will fill the tub. Alfred laughs again and sits next to him, smiling like the dumb American he is.

Lovino licks his thumb and reaches over, smudging it against Alfred's glasses. Alfred groans and makes a face, "Ew!" he says, laughing and pulling his glasses off his nose. "Don't smudge Texas, I need them to see!" He pulls the bottom of his shirt up and cleans his glasses before sliding them back on and adjusting them on his nose. Lovino just snorts and elbows him, causing the taller male to fall over on his side with a, "Hey!"

"Get out bastard so I can get in."

Alfred only gets up with another laugh and heads towards the door after pulling Lovino to his feet. "Do you need help pulling the bandages off?"

Lovino nods and Alfred helps him pull of his shirt and pulls the bandages away. One hand is left against Lovino's back, supporting the wing, tossing the shirt and the bandages to the side. Lovino groans a little and he mumbles something about Alfred leaving or he'll get his ass kicked.

"Just call if you need anything, okay?"

Lovino ignores his kindness and pushes him towards the door, already pulling off the too large socks and pulling at the strings of the sweats. Alfred smiles and shuts the door, heading into the living room. Lovino strips down and piles his clothes onto the counter, next to the towels, and crawls into the still slowly filling tub. The hot water feels great on his sore muscles and his broken wing unfolds just slightly. The relief is more than Lovino could have asked for and he shuts off the water before laying back.

He's always loved baths, especially when the tub is large enough for him to stretch out, and when the water is hot. He can lie on his back in the bath without having to worry about lying on his wings, because lying on his stomach and sides get tiring sometimes. But in the tub he's almost weightless and he can just float in the water, his wings splayed out just slightly, relaxing in the water, getting cleaned at the same time.

He closes his eyes and lets out a deep breath that he didn't realize he was holding. It was almost like a sigh, long and slow, quiet and shallow. But he felt relieved and content. So he smiled to himself, got nice and comfortable with his thoughts, and just relaxed into the deep heat of the water.

* * *

**Okay, there you have it. I wasn't really sure what to write for this chapter, and I wanted this out yesterday, but hey! It's 11/12/13! So I'll have that as a special gift or something. Though this chapter isn't really that great. Anyway, review please, let me know if I need to change something and what not. I'm sure you guys know the deal. Even if your review is just to drop in and say hi. TheRomericaFoundation, over and out!**


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